


birthday boy

by 1000_directions



Series: mcu kink bingo [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthday Sex, Body Dysphoria, Established Relationship, First Time Blow Jobs, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Protective Clint Barton, Strap-Ons, Trans Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: All Bucky wants for his birthday is for Clint to touch his dick for the first time.





	birthday boy

**Author's Note:**

> When CB suggested a Big Dick Bucky themed birthday celebration, my immediate thought was, _that doesn't sound like something I'd write_. And then approximately five seconds later, the idea for this fic popped into my mind.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you to Alex for reading over three(!) different versions of this. I appreciate your encouragement and your criticisms equally, and I'm so grateful that you pushed me to answer some hard questions about who Bucky is, which really helped me understand him as a character. Thank you for your patience and your gentleness and your openness. Thank you for always making things better.
> 
> I always try my best to write my characters sensitively and thoughtfully, especially when I am writing about identities that are not my own. I hope that this story does them justice.
> 
> mcukinkbingo square filled: First Time  
> clintbartonbingo square filled: Clint/Bucky

The elevator’s still broken in Clint’s building, which is fairly typical, and Bucky takes his time walking up the three flights of stairs. It’s nothing he hasn’t done a dozen times over the last few months, and he’s normally so eager to see his boyfriend that he takes the steps two or three at a time, and by the time he’s pounding on Clint’s door, he’s typically sweaty and breathless and grinning. But he’s wearing a new suit, and today is special, and he wants to be composed on the outside, even as he’s freaking out inside.

It’s just. Today is his birthday, and Clint said he could have anything he wanted, and all Bucky wants in this world is for Clint to touch his dick for the first time. And he doesn’t understand how he can feel so anxious about something he wants so badly, something he’s wanted for so long. Something that is finally, finally happening, just as soon as he gets to the top of this damn staircase.

When he’s finally standing outside Clint’s door, he pauses for a moment and registers the way his heart is pounding in his chest. He hates how sentimental he feels about this, how _significant_ this feels. They’re just two boys who are gonna play with each other’s dicks and see where that takes them, if it even takes them anywhere. He never thought he’d get to have something like this with someone he cares about so much, but that doesn’t mean he needs to get all _emotional_ like a--

He looks down at his new dress shoes, sees the stiff points of them jutting out from under the cuffs of his pants. He tries to wiggle his toes, but the leather is too confining. He needs to grow into them, and they will loosen up and become more accommodating. New things can be uncomfortable at first. He _knows_ this.

He’s barely even touched his knuckles to the door before Clint flings it open and stands there in the doorway, and something inside Bucky eases. That’s his boyfriend, his Clint who takes care of him and sees the person he is inside and loves every last bit of him.

“Hi,” Bucky says softly. 

“Hey,” Clint says, his voice slightly strained. His eyes move slowly down Bucky’s body, skimming over his shoulders and his torso, his waist and his thighs, all the way down to his shiny new shoes. There’s an intensity in his eyes as he takes in every detail, and his Adam’s apple is so prominent as he swallows.

“Can I come in?”

“Shit, yeah. Of course.” Clint smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He’s just wearing sweatpants and a shirt with a small hole at the collar, and there’s something so soft and endearing about him that makes Bucky feel a little more comfortable.

“Think I’m overdressed,” Bucky confesses as he follows Clint inside.

“No way, babe,” Clint says. He closes the door, then leans back against it, raking his eyes up and down over Bucky’s body again. “You look amazing. Shit. I should’ve put more effort in. It’s a special occasion.”

“Is it a special occasion?” Bucky asks, flushing from Clint’s praise. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“C’mere, birthday boy,” Clint murmurs, then he pushes off from the door and closes the space between them, his hands going right to Bucky’s face as he leans down to kiss him. Clint’s hands are so big. Bucky mostly hates feeling small or delicate, but Clint’s huge hands cradling his face always make him feel so safe and cared for. It’s so easy to just submit to it, to close his eyes and get lost in the confident, insistent power of Clint’s kiss.

When Bucky and Clint first started seeing each other, Bucky didn’t know it would be like this. Didn’t know there would be public versions of them, the selves that they are around everyone else, and then the truer, messier selves that they are just for each other. He didn’t know he’d get to be so vulnerable and open for someone else, and he didn’t know how Clint would rise to the occasion. He knows Clint sees himself as unsure, inept, flawed. But he’s good through and through, all the way to his core. He’s good at being a boyfriend, at respecting boundaries, at making Bucky feel loved and appreciated in small ways and big ones.

And Bucky feels so spiky sometimes, so unapproachable, unknowable, unloveable. He didn’t know he’d let Clint so close, didn’t know he was capable of craving so much intimacy. He is known by this man, loved by him. They lean on each other, and it makes them both stronger for it. He didn’t _know_.

“So you think I look nice?” Bucky asks breathlessly when he finally pulls back. So much for appearing composed.

“Jesus, Bucky. You look incredible,” Clint says. He places his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, takes a step back to really look at him. “Seems a shame that I’m going to have to take all of this off you.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky says, and his heart starts racing again, and he doesn’t know if he’s excited or nervous. When he’d put on this suit earlier today, of course he’d imagined Clint taking it off of him. Of course he’d thought about Clint unbuttoning him nice and slow, playing with his tie, taking him apart piece by piece. But now that he’s standing here, it feels more like armor. He feels powerful inside his suit, and he doesn’t know what he’ll feel like outside of it. Clint’s never seen him without his clothing before, and he just doesn’t know what’s going to happen. If he gets naked for Clint and then Clint rejects him or changes his mind, Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever, ever recover from it.

“Hey,” Clint says softly, like he can sense Bucky’s hesitation. “Whatever you’re ready for, babe. There’s no rush. It’s your birthday, and you can have what you want.”

Clint’s hands drift down from Bucky’s shoulders, sweeping up and down over his sides. Bucky can barely feel the touch of it through his binder, and he wonders what it would be like to feel that touch over the thin skin of his ribs. To let Clint touch him for real. He wants it, he thinks he might want it, but…he’s not ready for all of it. Not today.

“I want you,” Bucky says honestly, and Clint nods. “Christ, I fucking want you.”

“ _Happy birthday, dear Bucky_ ,” Clint croons, earnest and slightly-off key, smoothing his hands down to Bucky’s hips and taking a step closer so their bodies are flush. “ _Happy birthday to you_. It’s your day. You’ve got me, however you want me.”

“I want,” Bucky whispers, and his mouth is so dry, and his voice is just a little too high. He closes his eyes. Swallows. “Don’t take my top off, okay? I don’t...I want you, but I don’t want that.”

“Okay,” Clint says softly. “Can you tell me if I’m doing it wrong? Can you show me what you want? This is new for me, too, and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

When Bucky opens his eyes, Clint is so close that Bucky has to look up at him, and he can just barely feel the pressure of Clint’s dick against his hip. Bucky wonders if Clint can feel his dick. He wants him to. He _wants_ him to. So Bucky takes Clint’s wrist and guides his hand lower, slowly arcing Clint into position until his fingers bump right into his dick, and Bucky looks down, watches as Clint’s clever fingers feel out the shape of him through his pants, and he wants this so badly he’s sure he’s shaking. This is the sexiest thing that has ever, ever happened to him.

“Hello,” Clint murmurs. “You’re a nice handful, aren’t you?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching as Clint’s hand stretches the fabric of his pants so that it’s taut over his dick, bulging out obscenely, and Bucky swallows hard and tenses his thighs. Christ, Clint’s barely even touching him and he’s already so fucking turned on.

“Can I see it?” Clint asks.

“If you want.”

“Oh, I want,” Clint says with a chuckle. “Do you still not get how attracted I am to you? I wanna choke on it. I want you to hold me down and fuck my brains out. I’m never gonna rush you, babe, I swear it, but I want to do absolutely everything with you.” Clint’s eyes are warm but serious, and his hand is tender as he brushes Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “One of these days, that’s going to sink in, and you’re going to stop being surprised by how fucking bad I want you.”

“Okay,” Bucky whispers, because he has no idea what else to say. He doesn’t quite believe Clint, can’t imagine this will ever feel normal. Because Clint is saying things to him that he never thought he’d get to hear, and he knows Clint believes the words as he’s saying them because Clint is genuine in a way that few people are. He knows Clint means it. It doesn’t make sense, but he knows Clint wouldn’t lie.

“Would it be okay if I got on my knees for you?” Clint asks, and Bucky nods. Clint kisses him one more time, sweet and intense, his tongue sweeping through Bucky’s mouth in a way that is familiar and practiced, like he’s been here before and he already knows the way home.

And then he slumps down to his knees, a controlled sort of fall that looks more graceful than it ought to. And he looks up at Bucky, eyes wide and guileless, and there’s a sort of obedience to him that has Bucky trembling.

In a different lifetime, Bucky had been with other boys. They’d put their dicks inside of him, called him beautiful, called him by a dead name he doesn’t use anymore. And he’d liked the boys, but he’d hated the fucking, and he didn’t understand why it felt so bad, couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. Even when he was horny, even when he really wanted to fuck, it never made him feel the way he was hoping to feel. It was always a disappointment. It wasn’t even so long ago, really, but with Clint’s help, it’s getting more and more distant every day.

Because this is who he is now. Who he was always supposed to be. He’s Bucky Barnes, and he always has been, even when he couldn’t articulate it. And it’s his birthday, and the man of his dreams is down on his knees, looking up at him like he’s starving, and it’s never felt like this before. And he thinks that’s what was always missing. He’s been wanted before, he knows this, but he’s never been wanted by someone who knows him and understands him, someone who _sees_ him for the man he is and loves him and wants to make everything safe and perfect. Someone who would hand him a credit card and say, “Get yourself the birthday present we both know you want. Whichever one you want, just for you. You don’t even have to show me.”

And now Bucky is standing here in Clint’s apartment, wearing the strap-on he bought with Clint’s credit card, and Clint doesn’t break eye contact as he presses his generous mouth to the bulge in Bucky’s pants, dragging his lips up and down over the length of him.

“Is this okay?” Clint whispers. “I don’t want to ruin your suit.”

“I do,” Bucky says. Clint’s mouth has made a damp patch over the tip of his dick, and Bucky is trembling from it. He wants to ruin this suit from how turned on he is, and Clint is helping him do it.

“Are you hard for me, babe?” Clint asks, rubbing his cheek over Bucky’s dick, eyes closed as he nuzzles his face into Bucky’s crotch. He looks overwhelmed and turned on and so into it, and Bucky might cry. He really might.

“You know I am,” Bucky says hoarsely. “Fuck, I’m so hard for you.” He’s never said that out loud before. He wants to say it again. “You’re making me so hard, Clint.”

“You’re making me hard, too,” Clint says, and he runs his palm over his own lap, and Bucky can see the insistent line of his dick inside the soft swell of his sweatpants.

“Jesus,” Bucky says, and he’s so overwhelmed with lust and gratitude that his head is starting to get fuzzy. “Don’t make fun of me if I cry, okay?”

“C’mon, babe, it’s just me. Nothing here worth crying over,” Clint says with a self-deprecating shake of his head. But then he reaches for Bucky’s hand and gives it a squeeze, and his voice is quiet but serious as he adds, “You know I’d never make fun of you.”

“I know. I _know_. It’s just...crying isn’t very manly.”

“Sure it is,” Clint says with a crooked smile. “I don’t cry that much, but it’s been known to happen. And if you cry, your tears will be very manly tears, because…well, because you’re my man, so everything you do is automatically manly.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, blinking rapidly. He is not going to cry. He is _not_ going to cry. Clint is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “Will you…? Would you put your mouth on me?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Clint says with a grin, settling back on his heels. He runs his hands up Bucky’s thighs, and the heat of his palms rushes to Bucky’s core, gets him even more turned on. “Do you want to take it out for me?”

“I want you to do it,” Bucky says quietly. “Please, Clint.”

“I’ve got you, babe,” Clint murmurs. He thumbs open the button to Bucky’s pants and slowly drags down the zipper. “Doesn’t seem fair that I’m the one who gets to unwrap all the presents when it’s _your_ birthday.”

“ _Clint_.”

“Shh, I know. I’ve got you.”

Clint finally, finally gets Bucky’s pants open and pushes them down his legs. He runs his fingertips over Bucky’s thighs, through the sparse hair that’s starting to grow back in.

“Love these legs,” he mutters. “Want you to crush me with these thighs.”

“Later,” Bucky says breathlessly, even though just the thought of that is making him so horny that he wonders if Clint can tell how affected he is. He feels so obvious.

And he wouldn’t have expected it, but he doesn’t feel nervous at all when Clint finally pushes down his boxers and lets his cock spring out, hard and eager and--

“Purple!” Clint says happily. “It’s purple?”

“It’s purple,” Bucky agrees, his heart beating strong and fast in his chest. Even in the dim apartment light, it’s obviously, vibrantly purple, thick and long with a slight curve to it. Clint said he could choose any one he wanted, and it’s just…. Purple is Clint’s favorite color. And he wants his dick to be Clint’s favorite dick. Clint said he could choose anything, and this was his choice.

“Your dick is so pretty,” Clint says, wrapping his hand loosely around the shaft. “Is that okay? For me to call it pretty?”

“Sure. I mean, it _is_ pretty.”

“Pretty huge,” Clint says with a smirk.

“Is it too big?” Bucky knows it’s massive, but he’s just been waiting for this opportunity for so long. He’s been imagining this for ages, never really being able to save up enough money to make it a reality, and when he had the option, when he finally had the chance to have something swinging between his legs, he just wanted something substantial. He didn’t think about the physics of it. He didn’t really consider Clint’s ability to take a dick so big.

“It’s perfect,” Clint says gently, “because it’s yours.” He tightens his grip and runs his hand up and down over the shaft, twisting his wrist with each stroke. He kisses the tip of Bucky’s dick, and his tongue lingers, flicking delicately over the crown until it’s wet and shiny from his spit.

“Can you suck it?” Bucky whispers. He doesn’t want to push Clint, doesn’t want to be greedy at all, but he’s waited his whole life to get a blowjob.

“I’ll die trying,” Clint says, and then he tucks his teeth behind his lips and eases his mouth onto Bucky’s dick, closing his eyes and suckling at the head.

Bucky slips his fingers inside the harness, feeling his way around the bullet vibrator nestled against his body. It takes him a fumbling moment to find the switch, but he gets it eventually, and the gentle vibrations wrench a surprised moan from him. He grips the base of his dick and pulls it flush against his body so that the humming intensifies, a syrupy, lethargic desire that slithers through his veins.

And when he finally looks down at Clint again, it’s almost too much. Just the sight of it, just the fucking _sight_ of Clint’s mouth stretched around his dick has him so turned on he can’t stand it.

He touches his fingertips to Clint’s face, to the stark sweep of his cheekbones, the scar in his eyebrow where hair doesn’t grow, the constellation of freckles that Bucky can just make out beneath his flushed skin. He strokes his one sideburn that’s a little longer than the other, and when Clint blinks, his eyelashes are pale and so delicate.

“I like this scar,” Bucky says quietly, pressing his thumb to Clint’s eyebrow again. “I don’t like that you have it, but it makes your face look real. Did I ever tell you that’s why I swiped right? You were so handsome, didn’t think I’d have a shot with a guy like you. But I looked at that scar and thought, _he’s a person_. So I took a chance.”

There’s an intensity in Clint’s eyes that Bucky has never seen before, an eloquent expression that tells Bucky everything Clint feels that he can never quite put into words. He covers Bucky’s hand with his own, squeezes lightly, and then guides Bucky’s hand to the back of his head. Bucky slides his fingers through the strands of hair, experimentally strokes his thumb along the smooth bones of Clint’s skull. He doesn’t push, but he feels it as Clint takes Bucky a little deeper, just a few inches, and the movement of his mouth transmits through Bucky’s dick and jostles his vibrator, and he gasps at the delicious shock of it. Clint holds eye contact and keeps perfectly still, his nostrils flaring as he struggles for air. He blinks past the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes, and he swallows reflexively, but he can’t catch the spit that’s leaking from his open mouth. He’s so determined, and Bucky loves him so much.

“You’re doing so good,” Bucky says softly. “You’ve got me so hard. Your mouth was made to take my cock, Clint.”

Clint groans and tries to take in more of Bucky’s dick, but he can’t get too much further before he gags. He pulls off slowly, and Bucky’s dick is so, so wet from his mouth. Clint wraps a loose fist around the base of his cock, holding it steady as he licks eagerly at the shaft. He’s so hungry for it, slurping greedily as he takes the head past his lips again. He pushes Bucky’s dick against the side of his mouth so it makes his cheek bulge out obscenely, and Bucky whimpers and frantically curls his fingers in Clint’s hair.

Clint pops off of Bucky’s dick, and his voice is husky as he says, “Feel it, babe. Put your hand on my face and feel how big your cock is in my mouth, how I can barely fit you in.”

“Okay,” Bucky says shakily. And when Clint gets his mouth around his dick again, Bucky cups his cheek with his hand, feels the insistent prod of his own dick fucking against the confines of Clint’s mouth. He feels Clint’s jaw muscles working to contain him, feels all the tension and the power of him. He catches the spit pooling at the corner of Clint’s mouth with his thumb and paints it back over his straining lower lip. It’s obscene and it’s intimate, and his hips nudge forward without him meaning them to, and Clint just accepts the intrusion with a wet blink of his perfect eyes, and Bucky’s thighs spasm as he tries to hold still. He can’t tell if he’s trying to come faster or hold himself back as he struggles to control his hips, but it’s maddening. He’s taut and ready, a bowstring craving an arrow, so close to shooting off, and it’s sweet, sweet torture.

Bucky doesn’t know exactly what Clint’s doing with his mouth, he can’t see inside and he can’t feel it, but he can see Clint’s jaw working, sees the flash of his tongue, hears every small, wet noise, and he knows how hard Clint is working for this. He knows Clint is servicing him with every trick he knows, whether Bucky can feel them or not. He’s worshipping Bucky’s dick with his skillful, beautiful mouth, practically choking himself in his eagerness, and Bucky’s not going to last much longer.

“You’re gonna make me come,” Bucky murmurs, and Clint slowly lets Bucky’s dick fall past his lips. He tightens his fist around the shaft and slowly but strongly begins to jack him, and with each downstroke, his hand coaxes the vibrator to stutter against him.

“Want you to come,” Clint says dazedly. He rubs Bucky’s dick back and forth over his slick red lips. “Want you to come all over me.”

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky whispers, and he looks down at Clint, blissed out and moaning like he loves this, like he craves Bucky’s dick so much that just that tease of it is turning him on. He rakes his fingers through Clint’s hair, tilting his head back slightly so he’s looking up at Bucky, an open canvas, and Bucky imagines what that would be like, closes his eyes for a moment and imagines coming against Clint’s pursed, eager lips, and that’s what it takes for him to start coming for real, a warm, inevitable pulse that starts low in his tummy and radiates out between his legs as he convulsively rocks his hips into nothing.

But...not into nothing. Into Clint’s warm, receptive mouth. Clint’s lips part, and Bucky’s dick pushes inside, and Clint lovingly, reverently licks over him as he clumsily manages to switch off the vibrator, even as his legs won’t stop shaking.

“Holy shit,” Bucky gasps afterwards. “Holy shit, Clint.”

“So fucking hot when you come,” Clint mutters, lazily circling the tip of Bucky’s cock with his talented tongue. “Is this okay? If I keep my mouth on you a little bit longer? Or are you too sensitive?”

“What are you--?” Bucky asks, but he cuts himself off with a hiss as the motion of Clint’s mouth pushes the vibrator right up against him, and even with it turned off, it’s so much against his spent body. It’s a lot, but it’s okay, and he doesn’t want to stop just yet. “Oh, fuck yes. Please, Clint, oh _god_.”

“Gotta clean up my boy,” Clint murmurs, and Bucky whines as Clint opens his mouth and accepts Bucky’s dick back into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the head, chasing the taste of him and tenderly sucking him clean.

“So hot,” Bucky says breathlessly. “So good, Clint. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“ _You’re_ amazing,” Clint says with his mouth full, and Bucky wonders if he could come again, just from watching Clint on his knees, sucking his own spit off Bucky’s dick. Something to explore another time, maybe. Clint gives him one last thorough suck and then releases him, collapsing back on his heels, smiling and breathless. “So? Good birthday present?”

“The best,” Bucky says, swallowing hard. Why does coming make him so emotional? Fuck, he really, really doesn’t want to cry. He sighs and sinks down to his knees, giving his trembling legs a break after holding him up for so long.

“I love you,” Clint says quietly, his eyes boring into Bucky’s, and Bucky knows it, but Clint doesn’t say it out loud so much, and this whole day has been overwhelming in the best way.

“Fuck, I love you, too,” Bucky mutters. “Kiss me already.”

Clint leans closer, and Bucky finds Clint’s mouth and claims it with his own, licking insistently past his lips, groaning as he feels Clint’s strong arms wrap around him. Bucky feels Clint’s dick against his hip, heavy and insistent, and he palms Clint through his sweatpants until he’s whimpering, feeling out the shape of him through the damp fabric until Clint groans and comes in his pants after barely any time at all. He breaks the kiss, panting his hot breath against Bucky’s neck while Bucky runs his lips soothingly over Clint’s flushed forehead.

“You’re hot when you come, too,” Bucky whispers in his ear, and Clint just moans, and his dick twitches under Bucky’s hand.

“That was my last pair of clean pants,” Clint says regretfully after a few minutes.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, even though he isn’t sorry at all.

“Worth it,” Clint says, and he’s quiet for a while as Bucky presses soft, adoring kisses to his cheek, his neck, his throat. He wiggles his finger inside the hole in Clint’s collar and touches his finger to Clint’s warm skin. He loves this good man. Fuck, he loves him.

“Sorry I couldn’t take you too far.” Clint says hesitantly. “I’m out of practice.”

“You were good,” Bucky swears. “Clint. The best.”

“Still,” Clint says with a shrug. “Couldn’t even really get halfway without gagging. I want to take the whole thing. Can we practice?”

“Of course,” Bucky says, his heart beating so loud that it has his whole body shaking. The idea of them doing this again. This is something he gets to have now, something they’ll work at. He’s going to learn Clint’s body, and Clint’s going to learn his.

“Cool,” Clint says with a grin. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m a quick study. I’ll get better.”

And Bucky knows he means it, but the thing is, Clint doesn’t need to get better at anything. He’s already perfect.

They both are.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](http://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/183360126094/title-birthday-boy-link-ao3-square-filled-first)


End file.
